


sibilant hiss

by willowcabins



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Based on a Tumblr Post, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/pseuds/willowcabins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks until the annual Battle of the Bands, and the band Skaikru is desperately looking for a new guitarist. Enter Lexa, retired teenaged rockstar, the best in the business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. not a bang; not a whimper

**Author's Note:**

> the title of the fic is from a line in a Doomtree song called "no homeowners." the full line is "thanks TS, but the world ends like this: not a bang, not a whimper but a sibilant hiss"
> 
> trigger warnings: this fic discusses drug addiction, recreational drug use and consensual physical violence between characters. each chapter will have individual trigger warnings too.
> 
> the Sex doesn't come in until part 4, which is when the rating will be upped.
> 
> lastly, i was inspired by [this amazing artwork](http://mykabering.tumblr.com/post/113247861678/dealanexmachina-the-100-au-octavia-raven), though I have switched up and embellished a lot of the roles. also, thank you to the PERFECT/WONDERFUL [meg my beta reader](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EliaAlice/pseuds/EliaAlice) for giving me the confidence to post this

Clarke pushed open the metro doors and stared up at the sky, disgruntled. She pulled her spring jacket tighter around her waist and peered through the snow. It was wet, unpleasant March snow, and she wanted none of it. The pavements were drab and grey – discoloured slush was piled high on the side walk. Clarke’s mouth thinned into a disapproving line, and she sighed quietly. Behind her, Raven sighed dramatically.

“I thought winter was over,” she grumbled, tightening her windbreaker with a grumpy scrunch of her nose. Clarke nodded absently, but she stepped out from under the shelter of the metro station anyway and began walking.

“I told you it wasn’t. One warm week in March does not Spring make,” Octavia chirped, falling into step next to Raven. Raven scoffed.

“Warm?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It was 3 degrees!” There was a pause during which Raven shot her a disbelieving glance. “That’s practically boiling!” Octavia added, exasperated. Clarke rolled her eyes as Raven scoffed again.

“Deprived Yukon child,” she muttered under her breath.

“Whiny Vancouver kid,” Octavia retorted, elbowing Raven gently. Raven slapped her elbow, and quickly a slapping contest began behind Clarke. Clarke continued to ignore them, though a smile pulled at her lips as she reached the doors of the studio.

“Clarke,” Octavia whined. Clarke turned around to hold the door open and smirked. Raven had Octavia in a noogie. Clarke could see Octavia tensing, preparing to throw Raven off and flip her on to the dirty wet concrete with practiced skill, so she jumped to her defense, laying a hand on Raven’s shoulder.

“Let her go before she breaks your arm.” She advised. “We’re already one band member short. I can’t afford to lose you too.” That sobered Raven up. She dropped her hold on Octavia and straightened up. “Don’t forget why we’re here, Clarke added. Raven narrowed her eyes.

“To find a _temporary_ replacement for Finn,” she said loudly. Clarke’s lips thinned again, but instead of responding, she walked through the door. Raven made to run after her, but Octavia grabbed her arm.

“You know this is hard for her,” she cautioned. Raven shook her off.

“It’s hard for _all of us_ ,” she snapped. Octavia shook her head.

“Yeah but Clarke’s basically in charge. She has to make the _decision_. That’s pretty tough,” she pointed out. Raven shook her off and crossed her arms.

“No, it’s easy,” she said petulantly. “All she has to say is ‘temporary replacement,’ and we’d all be happy.”

“Raven!”

“What?”

“You _know_ it’s not that easy,” Octavia tried to point out. Raven rolled her eyes and walked into the building, brushing the snow off her windbreaker. Octavia followed.

 “No, I _know_ that it’s that easy,” Raven muttered, jabbing the elevator button. Octavia stepped forward and tried to put a comforting hand on Raven’s shoulder.

“Raven, you’re being –” she began, but Raven pushed her off and interrupted her.

“Childish! Immature! Delusional!” She snapped. Octavia stood her ground, and nodded. Raven’s gaze shifted to the window, and her shoulders sagged in defeat. “I _know_ , Octavia,” she murmured, her gaze shifting back to Octavia, “but it’s Finn.” Octavia smiled sadly.

 “I know,” she murmured. “I know. But you _have_ to remember that he –“

“Fucked up,” Raven waved a hand, “yes, I know.” She stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button for the fifteenth floor. “I _know_ I’m being irrational, but Finn is all I have.” Octavia placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder and looked her in the eye.

“And we know that,” she promised evenly. “We’re doing the best we can. We’re going to help him, and you know that.” Raven maintained Octavia’s gaze and then nodded slowly.

“I know,” she murmured. Octavia smiled and gave Raven’s arm a small squeeze. The elevator door opened and she gestured towards the corridor. “Are you ready for Anya’s glare now as we come late?”

“I’m always ready for that,” Raven said with a smirk.

 

Someone was already auditioning when Octavia and Raven finally got to the mixing room. Anya didn’t look up from the mixing table. Clarke was sitting next to her, reviewing the notes that Anya had handed her. She looked up and smiled at them; Anya just muttered a “you’re late,” her usual greeting. Octavia and Raven sat down on the bright red sofa at the edge of the mixing room, next to Bellamy. Octavia nodded a quiet hello to her brother. Bellamy grinned at her.

The person in the recording room, a small red-headed girl, was listening to one of their tracks through the headphones and ad-libbing on her electric guitar. This had actually been Anya’s solution to the very short notice in which they had to employ this new guitarist. There was no way someone would be able to learn Finn’s part, for the most part because a lot of his part grew out of his musical integrity; they needed to find someone who could match it.

As a result, the artist listened to their track on the headphones and added their own flare, and in the mixing booth they could hear both.

“I don’t like her,” Anya decided. Clarke tilted her head.

“Why not?” She whispered. Anya nodded at the young woman’s feet.

“She can’t hold a beat.” Raven narrowed in on the woman’s feet, and she realise Anya was right; her foot wasn’t tapping in time with the music at all. “She’d be awful if Raven speed up or slowed down with the drums.”

“I second that,” she murmured. Clarke nodded.

Anya turned off the music, and harshly excused the girl. Her face fell, and Raven bit her lip. Perhaps this would be harder than she had anticipated?

After the guitarist left, Raven leaned forward to see Clarke’s list. “How many are there?” she asked, nodding towards the corridor where the guitarists were waiting.

“Twenty-nine,” Bellamy answered.

“I thought you weeded some out?” Raven asked, surprised, glancing between him and the door.

“I did. And so did Anya.”

“And we still have 29?”

“I don’t think you understand how famous you are, Raven,” Bellamy commented with a laugh. The door of the recording studio opened and the next candidate began to set up. Raven gave her a once over and frowned, shifting her gaze back to Bellamy.

“Or how bad the economy is,” Raven disagreed.

“Raven, you have nearly a million twitter followers. That’s fame.”

“Or just people appreciating my sense of humour!”

“Your sense of humour?” Octavia raised an eyebrow.

“All your tweets make it sound like you’re high all the time,” Clarke agreed. Raven clutched her chest in mock horror.

“ _What_ an unfounded accusation,” she gasped. Bellamy raised an eyebrow and pulled out his phone.

“I’m going to read you a random tweet from your timeline,” he decided, “and we can let Anya decide how high you sound.”

“I want no part in this,” Anya disagreed.

“Okay fine,” Bellamy got up and opened the door. “Jasper and Monty!” he called. The two appeared, almost instantaneously. “Come on in,” Bellamy said happily, directing them to sit on the floor. “I have an important task for you.”

“Okay!”

“Does this tweet sound like something a normal person would write? “dream career:-” he began, and Raven nudged Octavia before muttering in a stage whisper

“-this is a good one;” Bellamy shot her a glare, and Raven zipped her lips so he could continue reading.

“dream career,” he started again, “squirrel that ferries insults between eagle and wyrm living on opposite ends of ygg-”

“yggdrassil,” Raven corrected serenely. Clarke laughed. Bellamy joined her.

“What even is that?!” he demanded.

“Here, I googled it,” Monty said, reading aloud from his phone: “Yggdrasil is an immense tree that is central in Norse cosmology, in connection to which the nine worlds exist.” He looked up at Raven expectantly.

“Why are you ferrying messages between eagle and wyrm?” Octavia demanded.

“Well I’m _not_ , I _wish I was_.” Raven corrected.

“How integral is it that you’re a _squirrel_?” Octavia continued. Raven sighed dramatically.

“You’re thinking about it too much now –” She began, before she was interrupted.

“I think it’s funny.” Everyone turned around to Anya. Raven punched the air in success.

“You do?” Clarke asked, staring at her surprised. Anya nodded.

“It’s well done,” she decided.

“But it does sound high,” Jasper added thoughtfully. Raven dramatically rolled her eyes.

“I’m _always_ like that though!”

“I know, Raven, but we don’t want any unnecessary media attention,” Bellamy said, his expression becoming serious again, “especially in references to drugs and alcohol right now.” Raven stiffened, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room became icy. It was perhaps the perfect time for the new guitarist to clear her voice in the practice room.

“I’m ready now,” she murmured. Anya nodded at her, and started the music.

“Start whenever you’re ready,” she said over the speaker, and the young woman nodded, and slowly started.

“Too demure,” Anya decided after 15 seconds. She turned to Jasper. “Get me the next one.” She turned to Clarke. Clarke gave a minute nod, and Anya turned on the microphone, switching off the music. “You’re excused,” she said over the speaker. The girl’s expression fell. Clarke bit her lip. This felt weirdly mean.

There was another pause as the next musician began setting up. Raven decided to use this pause to continue her defense of her eccentricities.

“But I mean look at my bio,” she began. Bellamy raised an eyebrow, but brought up Raven’s twitter again. He laughed when he read her bio. Impatient, Clarke pulled Bellamy’s phone out of his hands.

“I wanted to name the band Starfucker, but Clarke wouldn’t let me,” she read aloud, laughing. She handed Bellamy his phone back and shook her head at Raven. “You do know that was only because there _already_ is a band called Starfucker, right?”

“WHAT?! I think I should join them instead then.”

“Raven!”

“I’m kidding. We should just kill them all and steal their name.” Octavia nodded.

 “I second this notion,” she decided. Bellamy rolled his eyes. Clarke smirked. Anya cut through the conversation by pressing the microphone.

“Are you ready?” She asked. The new guitarist nodded mutely, staring at the floor. Anya began playing the track, turned off the microphone and turned to Clarke.

“Too shy.” Clarke looked from the girl to Anya.

“What do you mean?” She demanded.

“I mean she’s not confident enough.”

“No I know what you _mean_ , but –” The first note the girl played was off-key.

“We’ve seen enough,” Clarke agreed. Anya nodded and smugly excused the girl. Bellamy nodded at Jasper, who then went to go invite the new guitarist in.

Throughout the next three hours, all five of them progressively dismissed every single applicant.

“Not strong enough,” Raven claimed with a dismissive handshake as a timid young woman quietly played notes in the background.

“Don’t like her style,” Octavia decided authoritatively as a tall blond young woman began playing painfully country chords over their track.

“Too confident,” all three women chimed in as a good looking man _winked_ at them while playing mediocrely. Bellamy smirked as they did a three-way fist bump while the man stared at Anya in disbelief as she categorically dismissed him.

“We’re down to five people,” Monty updated them.

The next one got a “bad chemistry with the music” from Octavia a minute in. Anya seconded her, and the young woman was out. “She’s the best so far, though,” Octavia admitted reluctantly.

“We don’t settle,” Anya replied steadily.

Three more mediocre musicians, and another boy came in. “My name is Leo,” he said, smiling. He then began to play quite well. Anya tilted her head. Clarke glanced at Bellamy.

“Bellamy?” She asked.

“This man is a _terrible_ person,” Bellamy said in disgust.

“How so?” Octavia asked, straining to lean forward and see Bellamy’s phone.

“As in supports GamerGate and follows a ton of really terrible people online.”

“That could be ignorance…”

“He claims that, and I quote, “if a woman doesn’t want to date me, it’s because she doesn’t want a good man and she deserves bad things” _and,_ to make this _worse_ , he tagged that with #Yes All Women.” Raven plucked Bellamy’s phone out of his hand and stared at it.

“Wow this guy really _is_ a terrible person,” Raven muttered, scrolling down his dash.

Anya switched on the microphone, growled, “Leave,” and watched him scramble out under the disapproving glare of three women.

Jasper poked his head through the door with a frown. “I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but –”

“- We only have _one musician_ left,” Octavia finished his sentence with a sigh. “Yes, we know. Raven’s been counting.”

“And getting worried!” Raven added. Anya shook her head.

“No need to worry,” she simply said. Clarke raised an eyebrow, and Anya indicated the recording studio with a slight nod of her head.  

The tall lean woman entering the recording studio looked vaguely familiar, and Clarke could feel that she wasn’t the only one who felt that as both Raven and Octavia shifted forward. The woman pushed her brown hair out of her face and glanced at the window; her thick hair was tamed by small braids, and she nodded stoically at Anya.

It clicked for Clarke in the same moment that Bellamy gasped, and said “this is _that_ Lexa, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Anya said, a small grin pulling at her lip. Clarke thought it was the first time she had seen Anya so pleased with herself.

“Wait, who is this?” Monty asked. Octavia turned to him and grinned.

“Lexa was part of a band called Chika?”

“Cheka,” Bellamy corrected – “it was named after the Russian secret police in pre-revolutionary Russia.”

“Wow, nerd,” Octavia muttered, rolling her eyes, “anyway,” she continued, “after being the youngest band to ever win the Battle of the Bands, she and Costia suddenly disappeared, and no one knew why.”

“Costia died.”

“Well, no, that happened later, didn’t it?”

“What?”

“Well, I mean –”

“I’m ready.” Lexa’s voice was clear, and Clarke jumped as it cut through the conversation. Everyone immediately stilled. Anya nodded.

“Start playing whenever you feel ready,” she said, beginning the track. Lexa nodded. Clarke glanced behind her, and smirked as she realised that everyone was sitting at the edge of their seat, watching the legend.

Clarke watched Lexa again, tilting her head slightly. Clarke still remembered the Battle of the Bands that Costia and Lexa won – she had been there, in the great hall. Bellamy had snuck her and Raven in with him; the three of them had felt so badass in the crowd around them. Costia and Lexa, 16, were announced, and a million jokes were made about how underage they were, while Raven had elbowed Clarke with a knowing smirk.

Back then Lexa’s hair had been dramatically shorter, and she had worn earthy colours, and laughed as she strode onto the stage; the epitome of confidence.

Now her clothes were black, and although her hair was long and braided, it had a type of unruliness to her that felt almost…rural. She kept the confidence, though, and as she began playing the introductory chord strings, Clarke couldn’t help but smile. The musical talent was there too. She played for about a minute, but then decided to clearly make this more interesting for herself as she started a small solo in the track, her fingers, touching individual strings with lighting speed, weaving a liquid individual element through Clarke’s more powerful strums of the guitar. Clarke listened with open-mouthed wonderment as Lexa finished with a neat flourish.

Anya turned off the track. Clarke stared at her. “She was _amazing_ ,” she admitted. Anya smirked.

“I taught her,” she said with a shrug. Bellamy gaped.

“You taught _Cheka_ and you never told us?” He exclaimed incredulously. Anya shrugged.

“Didn’t feel important.”

“Anya!”

“Do you want me or not?” Once again, Lexa’s voice cut through the room. Clarke wanted to say something, about how impressed she was with the effortlessness with which Lexa seemed to dominate the room, but she just glanced at Anya instead. Anya turned on the microphone.

“Jasper will take you into the common room. We will join you in a second.” Jasper jumped up and rushed out of the door; Anya turned around and looked at everyone.

“We should hire her,” she said into the silence. Clarke nodded.

“I second that,” she agreed.

“She was _insane_ ,” Octavia agreed.

“Finn is better,” Raven added quickly. Bellamy stiffened slightly, and Anya’s lips thinned.

“But Finn isn’t here, right now, Raven,” Clarke said, slowly. Raven sighed. “And we need a replacement.”

“I _know_ ,” Raven muttered.

“So will you be okay with Lexa?”

“As a _temporary_ replacement, yes,” Raven decided. Anya’s lips thinned again. Clarke tilted her head at her, but Anya just shook her head.

“Let’s propose that to Lexa then,” she decided. Clarke narrowed her eyes at Anya, but gathered up her stuff anyway. They slowly exited the mixing studio; Clarke and Anya were the last ones to leave. Clarke grabbed Anya’s arm.

“Why are you hesitating?” she asked quietly. Anya looked at Clarke steadily.

“Lexa isn’t a temporary replacement, Clarke.”

“What do you mean?”

“She won’t accept a temporary contract.”

“But Finn!”

“Finn won’t be back for six months. A lot can change in six months, Clarke.”

“He’s my _friend_ , Anya, I can’t just -”

“Do what? Sell him out? You already did that when you sent him to rehab.”

“That wasn’t me-”

“Clarke, you are the leader. You have to make the decision.”

“I can’t tell Raven what to do.”

“Yes, you _can_ , Clarke.”

“Anya, Finn –”

“Finn fucked up, Clarke. Don’t make excuses for him. You have three weeks to make your band _good_ , otherwise this is not going to work. Do what you have to.”

“This is insane.”

“You’re the leader, Clarke. You can pull the plug whenever you want.” And with that, Anya left. Clarke clenched her jaw in frustration, and glanced at the recording studio. Lexa had left her guitar behind; it was jet black, decorated with small luminous stickers. Clarke _remembered_ that guitar, remembered how it had made her grin, and suddenly she remembered. This is what she, what _they_ wanted. And she wouldn’t let Finn ruin this for her.

She took a deep breath and walked into the break room. Lexa was sitting on one end of the table, head tilted as she watched Raven and Octavia whispering to each other. Clarke cleared her throat; Lexa’s gaze shifted to her, and Raven and Octavia fell silent.

“We really liked you, Lexa,” she began. Bellamy nodded avidly behind her.

“We were _so_ impressed,” he agreed. Clarke took a deep breath.

“Would you like to be our new guitarist?”

“Until Finn comes back?” Raven added quickly. Clarke clenched her jaw as Lexa’s gaze shifted to Raven.

“I won’t accept a temporary assignment,” she said coolly, looking at Raven arrogantly. Raven straightened up in her chair and returned the gaze. “If I’m coming out of retirement, I will not do it to _temporarily_ replace a drunken piece of criminal trash,” Lexa continued calmly. Raven jumped up and pointed an accusing finger at Lexa.

“Take that _back_ ,” she snarled. Octavia carefully put a reassuring hand on Raven’s shoulder.

“Raven,” she murmured, calmingly. “She’s not worth it.” Lexa quirked up an eyebrow and tilted her head at Clarke.

“If you don’t want me –” she began.

“No, Wait,” Clarke interrupted her. Raven stiffened and spun around.

“Clarke, no,” she snarled.

“Raven, just listen,” Clarke pleaded.

“ _No_ , Clarke,” Raven repeated.

“Look, Raven,” Bellamy chimed in, “we tried, but the thing is-”

“You just want to _abandon_ Finn,” Raven snarled, her eyes not leaving Clarke. Clarke took a deep breath.

“No, he’d understand,” she replied calmly.

“Don’t you _dare_ speak for him,” Raven snarled. “You’ve done _enough_ damage, Clarke.” She pushed the seat back; it fell on the floor with a clatter. “If you hire her, then I’m _out_.”

“Raven, you don’t mean that-”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what I mean, Bellamy,” Raven snarled, and marched out. Octavia gave Bellamy and Clarke two long glares, and then followed her out. Clarke turned back to Lexa.

“Well, if you’ll still have us,” Bellamy said, pushing himself off the counter, “we’d love for you to be our guitarist.”

“What about them?” Lexa asked, nodding at the door.

“They’ll come around. They always do,” Bellamy sighed. Lexa looked at Clarke again. Clarke met her stare, accepting the challenge. Lexa smirked and tilted her head, assessing Clarke. Clarke held her gaze unflinchingly. Lexa turned to Anya.

“Sierra and Echo will watch every performance,” she said quickly. Anya nodded.

“That sounds fair.”

“I want a year-long contract.” Anya glanced at Clarke, who nodded. Something akin to a smile pulled at Anya’s lips.

“I have it drawn up already.” Lexa’s lip quirked upwards.

“Where do I sign?” Anya gestured towards the door.

“Right this way.” Lexa glanced at Clarke.

“First rehearsal is tomorrow morning at 9am,” she said. Lexa bowed her head.

“I’ll be there.”


	2. word on the street is a page out of blake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank u 2 my beta reader, eliaalice! also, sorry for the shortish chapter- my thesis is begging to be written rn.

Part 2: word on the street is a page out of blake

“Raven!” Octavia’s call echoed through the concrete stairwell. Raven didn’t look up, walking down the stairs steadily. Above her, Octavia began skipping down the steps. Raven closed her eyes and continued walking, swinging her leg downwards as it hung limply. Some days, it hurt more than others. Her brace had been too tight that morning, because now her whole leg ached. But she continued walking down the stairs anyway, trying to exhale with every step.

Octavia’s footsteps were closer now. Raven looked up. She was standing at the bannister, watching Raven struggle.

“Leave me alone, Octavia,” she snapped. Octavia seemed to take that as an invitation, walking down the last dozen steps and offering Raven a hand.

“No,” she said with a brazen grin. Raven pushed her hands out of the way.

“Go away,” Raven muttered angrily. Octavia stayed next to Raven, taking every slow step with her. They paused on the landing and Raven sighed, blowing hair out her nose angrily.

“What do you want, Octavia?” she snapped. Octavia shrugged.

“Let’s take my motorcycle,” she replied. Raven stared at her.

“What?” she demanded.

“I said, I think we should take my motorcycle.”

“I know that’s what you said, but what do you mean?”

“When we leave. It’s parked in the garage near Lincoln’s studio, so it’s only like -.”

“You have no idea where I’m trying to go.”

“Really? You seriously think I’m that dumb?” Raven didn’t answer. “My motorcycle is in the garage on Maisonneuve –”

“I want to go alone,”

“It’ll take you nearly 2 hours to get there with public transport.”

“Fine,” Raven snapped as they reached the ground floor, “but you have to wait outside.” Octavia grinned at her as she held the door open. Now that they were on ground level again, Raven could almost match Octavia’s stride.

“I’ll take it.” Raven regretted this sentiment ?? about 3 minutes in. It was still raining, and although Octavia’s spare helmet shielded Raven’s face from the small pellets of snow, her windbreaker was not designed to combat the whipping cold wind that Octavia’s bike generated. They wove in and out of traffic, Raven gripping Octavia’s waist tighter and tighter as her hands, soon followed by her calves and thighs, numbed against the cold. The highway made the cold even worse, and Raven counted the miles in her head as she tried to distract herself from the shuddering cold. She buried her face in Octavia’s shoulder and tried to imagine heat, but it felt like a distant memory.

Finally, Octavia took the exit; Raven instinctively stiffened against the turn, and then, remembering Octavia’s strict instructions, leaned into it. They swung into the parking lot of the rehab facility with ease and parked in front of the door. Octavia had barely killed the engine when Raven stumbled off, rubbing her hands together aggressively, trying to get some feelings back.

“Wait here,” Raven told Octavia.

“You’re still wearing your helmet,” Octavia called out laughing. Raven rolled her eyes and gave the helmet to Octavia, who put it in her bike and then ran to catch up with Raven, falling into step next to her.

“I said wait outside!” Raven huffed as Octavia held the door open for her. Octavia laughed, offended, as they walked into the wave of warmth. Raven started wringing her hands as  blood came back to them slowly, burning her skin. Octavia enveloped Raven’s hands in hers; they were miraculously warm.

“You can’t make me wait outside,” Octavia chastised. “It’s cold!” Raven gave her a deadpan look.

“You’re from the Yukon, Octavia-”

“Doesn’t mean I couldn’t die of pneumonia!” Octavia protested.

“Fine, you can come in,” Raven grumbled, “but you have to stay in the waiting room.” Octavia grinned.

“Deal.” Octavia gestured for Raven to go through the second door. Raven gave her a suspicious look, and then walked through. With a deep breath, she walked up to the reception and put on her best fake smile.

“Hello,” she said with a smile; “I’d like to see Finn Collins.” The nurse, a middle-aged woman with wild curly hair, barely even looked up from the computer.

“You can’t,” she said, voice monotonous. Raven’s smile became strained.

“It’s an emergency,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

“You still can’t,” The nurse replied, unimpressed. Raven sighed and leaned forward, muttering conspiratorially.

“Can you just let me this one time? See, I’m his sister.” The nurse finally looked up, though her face remained entirely blank.

“Last time, you told me you were his wife,” she pointed out blandly. Raven gritted her teeth.

“It’s complicated,” she snapped, façade of politeness dropping as her anger slowly rose, dangerously close to boiling point.

“I understand,” the woman said without any hint of understanding in her voice. Raven  clenched up, her anger suddenly boiling over; she slammed her palm flat against the counter.

“Let me see him,” she snarled. The woman just looked from Raven’s hand to her face slowly, and then shook her head. Before Raven could react, Octavia’s powerful grip enveloped her wrist.

“Raven –” She warned, but the bland receptionist interrupted her.

“I don’t think you understand, Ms. Reyes.” She took a deep breath, and then looked up at Raven, eyes full of conceit that made Raven’s  very blood boil. “Your brother-husband is in court-mandated rehab, Ms. Reyes.” She tilted her head at Raven. “Do you know what that means?” Raven opened her mouth to bite something insulting out, but Octavia’s grip on her wrist tightened, and she shut her mouth instead. The receptionist smirked, answering her own question with deliberate joy. “That means he does not get visitors until he deserves them.”

“But this is very important!” Raven snapped. The woman shrugged.

“Get the judge’s permission then,” she said, her gaze shifting back to the computer, signalling the end of their conversation. Raven tensed again, as if she was about to pounce, so Octavia yanked her wrist pointedly. Raven went limp, admitting defeat, and followed Octavia to the door.

“I just want to see him,” she murmured, tears streaking down her face. Octavia gripped her tight and hugged her.

“I know,” she murmured.

The door opened and Clarke stumbled in. Octavia raised an eyebrow at her as Raven straightened up and glared at her.

“Thank God you’re still here,” Clarke said, wiping the rain out of her eyes. “The rain is getting worse.” Octavia glanced out of the window; Clarke was right. It was now falling in sheets. Raven just raised her chin though and looked at Clarke coldly.

“Go away, Clarke,” she said in a monotone. Clarke sighed.

“Look Raven, I know you’re still angry with me, but -” Raven raised an eyebrow.

“but what?” she asked, demanding. Clarke sighed.

“I know you’re freezing on Octavia’s bike. Let me drive you home.” Raven crossed her arms petulantly.

“No.” Raven snapped, walking outside. Octavia rolled her eyes and shrugged at Clarke.

“Raven –“ she began as she followed Raven out, but Clarke interrupted her, grabbing Raven’s arm.

“Raven, please. I know that you’re hurting, so let me help.” Raven opened her mouth, about to explain that there was no way Clarke could even begin to understand the pain she was in, but Clarke held up a hand. “If you’re about to tell me about how I don’t understand, can you please do it in the car? It’s freezing, I’m getting wet and I really just wanna go home.” Raven sighed and strode over to Anya’s car, yanking open the door and sitting down in the passenger seat, arms crossed. Clarke called something out to Octavia and waved her off before sitting in the car next to Raven. Raven glanced at her, but Clarke was looking at her hands in her lap. She sighed and looked up at Raven.

“I don’t know if the nurses have told you,” she began slowly, “but I’ve been up here several times too.” Raven bit her lip; she didn’t know that. She took a deep breath.

“They let you see him?” She asked, a heavy jealousy bubbling in her stomach. Clarke smiled sadly and shook her head.

“Nope.” She sighed and turned the key, starting the car, following Octavia out of the lot. She glanced at Raven and gave her a timid half-smile. “I even tried to use the whole ‘I’m the one who put him here’ routine, but they didn’t bite.” She took a deep breath. “I wish I could see him. I miss him.”

“In a weird way,” Raven agreed. Clarke glanced back at Raven and smiled, recognition burning in her eyes. “Like I miss parts of him?” She tried to clarify. Clarke nodded.

“It’s like, I don’t miss the Finn we put in here, but I miss the Finn before that.” She laughed. “Does that make sense?”

“The Finn who liked making pretty statues out of scrap cans and had a killer smile?”

“Exactly. That Finn. Not….this new person.”

“He’s trying to get better.” Clarke bit her lip.

“I hope so,” she murmured. Raven felt her habitual defense of Finn bubble up to her lips again.

“He’s lost.” It felt hollow. The excuse had lost its defense. It now sounded more like a plea.

“I know.” Clarke sighed. “I just want you to know: it’s hard for me too.” Raven nodded.

“Especially with the pressure of finding a new guitarist,” she added. Clarke stiffened slightly, and then glanced at Raven again.

“It’s done, Raven,” she said deliberately, pausing for a second before she clarified: “we hired Lexa.” Raven stiffened.

“Without asking me?!” She exclaimed. Clarke sighed.

“We had a vote,” she said slowly.

“Without me?!” Raven felt her anger bubble up again, but before it could reach its peak, Clarke cut through it.

“Raven!” she snapped. “If we don’t have a guitarist by tomorrow, we can’t compete in the battle of the bands! This is our dream.” Raven crossed her arms again and pouted.

“So we’ll compete next year!” She muttered. Clarke rolled her eyes.

“What are we going to live on until then? Bread crumbs?”

“We could –”

“We have momentum this year, Raven. We have attention. We have people. We need to do this.” Raven sighed.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Fine.” Clarke glanced at her, uncertainty still evident on her face.

“Our first rehearsal is tomorrow. Be there?”

“Fine.” They took the exit off the highway and into the downtown area again. Octavia swerved in front of Clarke and gestured for her to follow.

“You’re staying at Octavia’s today?” Clarke asked. Raven nodded.

“Lincoln’s doing a cleanse right now.” Clarke snorted.

“Sounds terrifying.”

“Right?” Raven agreed. “Anyway, Octavia wants to try her hand at cocktail making.”

“That’s always dangerous.” Raven chuckled.

“Don’t you know it,” she agreed, Clarke glanced over at her and tilted her head.

“Anya gave me the car for the weekend – shall I pick you up tomorrow morning?” Raven smiled.

“Yes please.”

“Still not a biker girl?” Clarke teased.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be a biker girl.”

“I think I consider that a good thing.” They pulled up in front of Octavia’s apartment. Raven glanced at Octavia, and then looked at Clarke and took a deep breath.

“I know I don’t say this enough,” she began, but Clarke just put her hands on top of Raven’s and cut her off.

“Raven, both Octavia and I love you. I mean, we started this band because of that love. You don’t have to thank us for looking out for you. We’re friends. It’s what friends do.” Raven huffed and rolled her eyes.

“You suck,” she muttered. Clarke grinned.

“Go, drink with Octavia." Raven got out of the car, but before she slammed the door shut Clarke leaned over the seat and called out to her: "Just don’t tweet.” Raven laughed.

“We'll try our best!” She promised, and the door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i should warn somewhere that this is most definitely a SQUAD FIC?? like....all the ladies are super important 2 me ALWAYS

**Author's Note:**

> Final Warning: in this work, Finn has committed a federal crime, and as a result is institutionalized. This is by no means my transcription/translation of Finn's actions in the show, and I don't think that Finn's offense in this fic is in anyway comparable with his murder of 18 innocent people in the canon.


End file.
